Storytime: The Nature Stop & How to Be a Pimp

I have taken to pimping out the natural foods store near my house. Literally.

berryIt’s a Thursday evening. I stand outside the natural food store near my house. I hold in my hands a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables which I purchased at said store. They’re fresher than what you can get from the farmer’s market. They’re as delicious as anything you could grow in your own home. Can you grow them? No, you live in San Francisco. So you’re looking at me.

A man walks by on the sidewalk. I hold out a basket of strawberries. He glances at them, then looks at me, never breaking his stride. I wink menacingly. He breaks eye contact and hurries on. It was obvious he wanted them though. He’ll be back.

A young woman strides by in yoga pants and a baggy, gray knitted sweater. She has a gym bag. She’s wearing sunglasses even though the sun’s almost set and it’s cloudy and cold. I whip out two cobs of fresh, sweet, white corn. I thrust them toward her. She dodges, frowns. She’s obviously not in the mood tonight; I move on.

I’ve moved to the corner. I hold my wares in plain sight: two oranges, the corn, the strawberries, a bunch of kale, and four avocados. A car slows as it passes. “You lookin’ for a nice meal?”, I ask. The passenger and driver exchange a glance. “How much?”


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Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

I have a little side blog now, it’s called Single White Female: Refrigerator (SWFR). Here is a link:

I know I talked about it in a post a couple months ago and that I was unclear about it being a separate blog and you thought it was just one picture of my refrigerator. It is a blog on a site called Tumblr, which is used a bit differently than WordPress or Blogger, which is where my other blogs are kept.

Anyway, on my SWFR Tumblr, I post a picture every week or few of the inside of my (or Alicia’s) refrigerator. Because I find it humorous to see what’s in (or not in, usually) our refrigerators. I know if you weren’t making food for your grandbaby now, you would be proud to boast an entirely empty refrigerator as well. Don’t worry, I know in your heart of hearts, you have an empty refrigerator just like I do. That is not a metaphor.

I hope you enjoy my newest silly online bloggy thing.



P.S. Your minestrone soup was really good, it didn’t stay in my fridge nearly long enough to make it onto SWFR. Thank you.

swf refrigerator

Shameless plug for my new tumblr: swf refrigerator.

Is it a philosophical commentary on a person’s state of mind through the eyes of their refrigerator? Is it a realization of the social implications of gender roles and family values in the current state of our society? Is it an intermittent and admittedly poor advertising campaign for Trader Joe’s? I dunno, it’s my fridge. And it makes me laugh.


I will be updating sporadically and accepting submissions from other swf’s (and sf’s of any ethnicity, really). Mom, will you do me the honor?

State Bird Provisions – WTF?

I cannot review SF’s newest addition to the list of “must eat”s. This is because I cannot get a reservation. And I bet you can’t either.

Welcome to San Francisco. We have amazing food. And you have to either wait 2 hours to be seated or 60 days for a reservation. Grrr.

State Bird Provisions is a tiny American food restaurant that serves their reportedly heavenly fare on dim-sum style carts that roam the microscopic aisles. Or so I hear. Because they haven’t yet let me inside the doors. Harumph.

SBP has a reservation list on their website that is updated in real time. You can reserve up to 60 days in advance. But there’s never a reservation spot. It’s like World Series Giant’s tickets just went on sale every single day. It’s a veritable online elbow fight to get a seat. I have yet to win.

Ok, fine. Doing some research, I see that this place is not only good, it is hailed as the best in the land. Like, nationally, apparently. Best New Restaurant in America. Jesus Christ. That’s a lot to live up to. Now I almost feel sorry for them. Are my hopes too high?

In the meantime, I will keep refreshing the webpage at work to see if I can get a reservation at any other time besides 10.30pm on the Saturday before Christmas. Or maybe I should just start scooping up rezzos and scalping them out front? I bet I could make some serious bucks that way… (and only at the small cost of dignity…)

State Bird Provisions… you will be mine…

Eat it, 30.

Hi, I’m 30. I don’t even think I’m going to go by my name anymore, just refer to me as 30. Since it seems to be important. You turn 29 and people are like, “eh”; you turn 30 and people say the following:

My boss: “How old are you?”  Me: “30”  Boss: “Wow, I thought you were older.”  (Yes, this actually happened.)

Dad: “OMG, you’re 30?!! That must mean that I’m like… 40…”

Sister: “Jesus.”

Birthday Card: “Wow, you’re OLD!”

You get the idea. “What are you doing for your THIRTIETH birthday?! I did a trapeze lesson for mine!” “How do you feel now that you’re 30?” “Dirty thirty!” “Thirty is the new twenty!”

I don’t know how I feel about landmark birthdays.  I guess I don’t much care. I was 29 and 364/365 last week, the only change is a tiny fraction. Hardly worth mentioning, really. Regardless, I took this opportunity to eat good food for about four days. It was my birthday, I do what I want. These were my historic, amazingly memorable, landmark 30th birthday foods of choice:

Day-of Birthday Foods, July 5: Sens for lunch (thanks Jason!), The House for dinner (thanks Lita and Smalls!)

Lunch: Seared tombo tuna from Sens Restaurant


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Conversation with My Stove

Summary: New apartment. First use of stove in this apartment. First use of any stove in months.

Conversation I just had with my stove:


Me: You’re making weird noises, what does that mean? Are you on? I guess so, the big coil at the bottom is all red.


Me: Ok, it looks like you’re heating up my pizza. How the fuck do I use this timer? Forget it, I’ll just use my phone.


Stove: BEEP

Me: Oh god, are you going to blow up? Why would you beep? Did I set a timer by accident or something? Why is the coil getting dimmer?


Me: Oh. I’m a tard. You’re pre-heated. To the temperature I set you to. That’s what the beep was for. Now I’m supposed to start cooking my food.


Me: I am not good at this game.


I think the stove may have rolled its eyes at me. I don’t really blame it.

Blog-related note: Restaurant reviews to re-commence soon; I haven’t gone entirely insane (yet).

I Love Food, but…

…I don’t really love to cook. There, I typed it. I’m a food blogger who doesn’t love to cook. Will you still read my blog?

It’s not that I hate to cook, I just typically find it tedious and I’m really not that great at it. What I really like to do is eat. You may have noticed this. I love food. Love, love, love. I just really want someone else to make it for me. Is that so wrong?

The real problem: Boyfriend is out of town for four days. Between the existence of cereal and restaurants, I have managed not to have to face the stove as yet. But this will surely change before he returns. I exert a small whimper.

If there’s one thing I dislike more than cooking, it’s cooking alone and for myself. I swear, anything I touch tastes worse than if I hadn’t personally supervised its creation. Maybe I should just cook blindfolded. Things would at least turn out more interesting…

You really notice how much tasks are delegated in a relationship when your significant other isn’t around. K is in charge of the cooking, the laundry (generally), and typically anything technical or mechanical. The flash on my camera wasn’t working yesterday and I had to figure it out by myself when I would have normally handed it to him. Another whimper.

I could continue to tell you about how, since he’s been gone, I’ve needed things off the top shelf, how I embarrassed myself struggling with my tripod, and how I laughed out loud at a song that came on the radio that reminded me of an inside joke we have, but instead, I’m going to go eat some cereal. Sigh.

I will make you a website for $100

Update: This offer is now expired. :)

To all the restaurants out there that don’t have a website: I WILL MAKE YOU A WEBSITE FOR $100. No, seriously. I’m sick and tired of looking up information for a restaurant (location, proper name, hours, menu) and having Yelp and and Urbanspoon be my only window into your facility…. 

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